Grief and False Guilt
by Tauna Petit-Strawn
Summary: A two part story on grief and false guilt... First chapter has one Barkley, second chapter will have three.
1. Chapter 1

Guilt and Grief 1 of 2

The wind was blowing fiercely through the Stockton graveyard. Its invisible hands picked up handfuls of leaves that had deserted the few trees that stood near, or around, the headstones and threw them at anyone who happened to pass by-or through-the cemetery. Black clouds were rolling in; each waiting eagerly to pour bucketfuls of water down upon Stockton's parched ground. Though, as eager as the majority of the people were for rain, few could be actually be seen on the boardwalks of Stockton-and fewer were riding through town. Maybe that's why Fred, who was standing inside one of the many businesses in town, near the window, had no trouble seeing the gentleman pressing his way through the wind and managing to get the gate that stood at the front of the hallowed ground open.

"He should be in bed." Fred shook his head and hurried out the door and towards the graveyard, concerned he'd find his friend had collapsed upon reaching his destination. "Stubborn, far too stubborn. Then again, I haven't met a Barkley yet that isn't." He muttered under his breath as he reached the gate and opened it-even if the wind did try to rip it out of his hands. He wasted no time making it to his friend's side. After all, he was concerned the gentleman might just collapse and need help. Though, he needn't have worried. Instead of collapsing, Fred's friend turned to face him.

"Figured you'd come once I saw you in the window. Going to chase me home?" A half smile and a set of pain filled blue eyes met the sheriff's.

"No, only you really shouldn't be out here right now. Neither one of us should." Fred, who had-thanks to the wind- barely heard what his friend said, raised his voice too. Not with any sound of irritation of anything akin to that, he just wanted to make sure he was heard. "No one should. I bet you it starts raining soon!" He hollered over the wind which was blowing even harder. Fred then nodded towards his office. "Let's go! We can talk without having to raise our voices!" He turned to leave, his eyes asking 'Are you coming or do I have to come up with an excuse to use my badge?" Fred was relieved when his unspoken question was heard and his friend turned away from the grave.

By the time Fred opened the door to his office, the rain had started to fall-and fall hard. "Glad you didn't fight me coming over here," Fred hung up his hat and coat, then walked over to a small, brown side table that his deputy had put in the office the week before. A coffee pot sat on it. "Want a cup?" He asked as he poured some of the drink into a cup- and then held it out. For a moment, he thought he was offering the coffee in vain.

"Thanks," Heath took the cup. He remained standing until Fred was seated behind the desk and insisted on the blonde haired cowboy take a seat as well. Slowly, Heath did as the sheriff asked and sat down on a chair not that far from the lawman's desk. Silence then enveloped the room. Fred, wanting to help, but not knowing how…and Heath too lost in his thoughts to speak.

Finally, Fred leaned forward and- looking at the cuts on the side of Heath's face, the wrapping that was still on his left hand and wondering about the bandages his friend had wrapped around his abdomen, rested his arms on the desk in front of him. The good sheriff figured he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. Still, maybe, Heath needed to answer it…if for no other reason than to get him talking. That-talking-was something he felt Heath Barkley needed to do.

"Why are you in town? Not only did the doctor say he wanted you to be in bed for a few more days, being out in this weather could give you a good case of pneumonia." Fred kept his arms on his desk. Again, he was surprised, but not shocked, when Heath let out a pain filled sigh and nodded in the direction they'd just come.

"That's my fault, you know. I should have been able to stop it. Instead, all I could do was lie on the ground and do nothing!" The anger he felt, the fury he'd been holding inside, came barreling out as the words came rushing out of his mouth.

"You and your family were told Jacob Tilman and his friends had _all_ been captured." Fred leaned back and gave Heath a look of sympathy. "As was I and everyone else in this town. How were you too know that Jacob and two of his friends had escaped? None of us found that out until after you left to go to Modesto." He paused as an uneasy thought entered his mind, and he leaned forward once more. "Is your family blaming you for this?" He could hardly imagine that one; still, grief did many strange things to the most stable people in the world. When Heath didn't answer right away, Fred feared the worst. He was relieved when Heath started shaking his head.

"No, they've said same thing you just did….said not knowing the last factor-that there had been escapes made, there was nothing I could have done." He fought the tears back that wanted to come and took a long, painful breath. "My head tells me all that, but my heart is hurting worse than this." He held up his left hand and then gestured towards his abdomen. "Can't seem to shake the guilty feelings,"

"Survivors guilt," Fred flicked his wrists and gave Heath another look of sympathy. "I've heard that term more than once, and seen many people who suffer from it." He paused and then added slowly, "I only know what Sheriff Riggs from Modesto told me, and what your brothers have said. You've never told me your side of things. If you want, I have willing ears and a closed mouth."

Heath couldn't help but chuckle just a little. Sheriff Madden was one of the most trustworthy men he knew. "Maybe, someday, but not now." He put his right arm around his abdomen and then asked if he could lie down on one of the cots in the cells. "Strange place to be when I haven't done anything wrong only I admit, I think I moved too soon."

Fred refrained from saying 'I told you so' as he pointed to a cot that sat against the east wall; his deputy had put it there a few days ago. "No need to do that. Use that one." He waited until Heath had stood up, walked over to the cot and lay down before he spoke again. "Don't feel guilty about living while she died. She wouldn't want that for you. And remember, there's a lot of people who were more than grateful when you pulled through. Grieve like you should, only move on afterwards." Fred paused and then reminded Heath he was always available if Heath wanted to talk.

"You sound like Jarrod now." Heath let out another soft chuckle and then closed his eyes. Someday he'd do as Fred said…someday.


	2. The End

Grief and False Guilt (2 of 2)

_**TISSUE WARNING!**_

"_**No, they've said the same thing you just did….said not knowing the last factor-that there had been escapes made, there was nothing I could have done." He fought the tears back that wanted to come and took a long, painful breath.**_

While the sun was shining and the ugly clouds from the day before had slipped away in the middle of the night, the ground was still rather wet. More than once Jarrod and Nick, who had been looking for Heath ever since they'd woken up to find him missing, had to steer their horses around more than one mud puddle. Having failed to find their injured brother on the ranch, they'd decided to head to town.

"Hope we don't wind up having to have Fred gather another group of men." Nick broke the silence as they entered Stockton. While there were definitely more people out and about than there were the day before, the amount of people was still less than Nick or Jarrod expected. Most of them paid no mind to the two brothers; the rest gazed upon the brothers with sympathy in their eyes.

"Wish they'd look at something else," Nick growled low. He didn't feel like being gawked at today.

"They will, in time." Jarrod assured his brother, even as they approached the graveyard.

"You thought he was coming here?" Nick stopped his horse, looking from the grave he was still having trouble accepting.

"After what …." Jarrod started to reply only to hear Fred calling his and Nick's names. Both men turned their eyes away from the graveyard. It took a split second for them to see Fred hurrying down the boardwalk that ran down the opposite side of the street. "Let's go." Jarrod pulled on his reins. It wasn't long before they were talking to Fred, who was more than willing to talk about the night before.

"He's still lying on that cot. I had Doctor Merar look him over the first free minute-which wasn't until a half hour ago. After giving him a stern lecture, Doc told me to send for the two of you. He wants Heath taken home in a wagon, not on the back of a horse."

"Would you find someone to get a wagon," Jarrod sighed. He'd known Heath was feeling guilty, but not this guilty. "We have to talk with our dear brother."

Fred agreed and then walked away.

Neither Nick or Jarrod talked headed for the jailhouse; they hoped Fred wouldn't mind their horses being hitched in front of the building for a little while.

When the door to the sheriff's office opened, Heath opened his eyes. He didn't know why he was surprised to see Jarrod and Nick walking through the door. "Gonna tan my hide for leaving last night?" He spoke flatly, though he was trying to ask the question in jest.

Nick and Jarrod shook their heads as they each grabbed a chair, moved to them to opposite ends of the cot and sat down. "No, but why? You could have killed yourself coming here."

A small part of Heath wanted to ask why that would have been a problem only he knew how wrong that was, and how much it would hurt his brothers to hear him say such a thing. "I had to see her, had to tell her how sorry I was I failed her."

"You didn't fail her!" Nick snapped, and then quickly apologized. "Heath, you did all you could to protect her when those men attacked."

"How do you know?" Heath's own voice snapped angrily. "You weren't there!"

"Not for everything, no." Jarrod spoke up when he saw frustration quickly leaping into Nick's eyes. The volume in his voice lowered a little. "Only we were there at the end."

Heath's eyes widened. He had not been aware of his brothers' presence. However, the admission from Jarrod had him turning Nick's words over again. "You talked to her before she died?" The disbelief he felt was in his eyes. Then again, he had passed out after the men had run off, leaving his baby sister laying, bleeding, on the ground.

Nick nodded slowly. "I wanted to tell you but, at first, I couldn't. You were fighting for your life." He shrugged his shoulders. "and then? I don't know. I just didn't think to tell anyone until this morning. That is, I didn't tell them everything she said. My own grief is the only reason I can come up with." His voice trailed off as he looked at Jarrod as if to yell 'HELP!'.

Jarrod moved his chair and set it closer to the middle of the cot's side. "I was glad he finally told me everything. It sure cleared things up for me."

Heath's eyebrows turned downwards. "What didn't make sense? Everything was clear as that yellow ball of heat out there." Heath gestured toward the window which clearly displayed the clear blue sky and sun.

"When you finally woke up enough to talk for any length of time, what you told to the Modesto sheriff backed up everything he'd been told by the stranger you and Audra picked up a few miles away from your destination. I mean everything…including the fact that-in spite of how badly you were injured after the initial attack-you were able to get to your fallen pistol. He said you were telling the truth when you said all you could do was make it appear as if you could shoot-as the stranger put it - 'those would be thieves and murderers'." Jarrod paused and continued. "You lost consciousness after the men ran off only the stranger hadn't. He said he figured that-with you apparently strong enough to shoot one of them and hearing us approaching, the 'cowards turned yellow and ran'."

"Only thing is," Nick took over when Jarrod quit speaking, trying to clear his throat. "Those idiots ran right into us instead of avoiding being captured."

"What's so puzzling about all that?" Heath didn't understand, and he didn't like that. Those facts could be seen in the soft glare he was giving his older brothers.

Jarrod took a deep breath. "You were so badly hurt Heath. I couldn't understand why they hadn't simply finished killing you first, before…" He shook his head, changing the path his mind was starting to take. "Until Nick told me everything Audra said to him as he knelt on the ground and held her in his arms, I didn't have any answers." He covered his mouth for a moment, trying to settle his own weary nerves.

"What did she say?" Heath struggled to sit up only to have Nick put his hand on Heath's shoulder. "You're not sitting up. Just lay there and listen!"

"First, you need to recall how you told the sheriff Audra was so mad at those men that she attacked them after they injured you. That she had the look of a wildcat in her eyes." Jarrod leaned forward. "She asked Nick to forgive her, asked him to get us to forgive her and that 'there was no other way'.'"

"What?" Heath stared at his brothers. "Forgive her for what?"

Nick found his voice and spoke up. "Heath, she said those men were going to shoot you again, finish you off. They were going to put more bullets into that stranger as well. Heaven knows what they had in mind for her-and she didn't want to find out. Wrestling with Jacob Tilman over his gun, well, she did that knowing there was a high chance she'd be shot. The thing is, she hoped to at least get one shot off, one that we would hear. She also hoped you'd at least be able to get a hold of the gun…even if the only purpose it served was to scare those men. Both goals were reached before Tilman succeeded in shooting her."

"And, before you ask," Jarrod wiped some moisture from his eyes. "We wanted to bury her on the ranch only the last words out of her mouth were 'please, let me rest in Stockton-near my orphans. I'm sorry you were still fighting for your life during the funeral. I know you've been angry about not being able to attend."

Nick couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Wonder if the orphanage knew those children belonged to sis."

A small, yet somewhat painful, crooked smile appeared on Heath's face for the first time in weeks-and there was even a slight hint of a sparkle in his eyes. "Everything child or animal belonged to her, don't you know that by now?"

"Sure do." Nick and Jarrod grinned just as Fred walked into the office to tell them a wagon was waiting for them.

"Now, dear brother, we have a Mother who is worried sick about you. How about we go home and help each other through this grief—without holding onto any fault sense of guilt."

Heath's heart still ached like crazy only he didn't resist when his brothers carried him out of the sheriff's office and set him in back of the wagon. However, as Jarrod and Nick made sure he had a blanket wrapped around him, he heard someone he could not see tell another unseen person that Heath was a hero. "No," he whispered silently, 'I was not the hero; that was Audra."


End file.
